


Forest Products

by Soobiebear



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26693098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soobiebear/pseuds/Soobiebear
Summary: Written for Dreamwidth's CHMSlash photo challenge 2020.  I got a photo of James and Richard with the Burmese Lorries, and a second photo of Richard and Jeremy at an airport.
Relationships: Richard Hammond/James May
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Forest Products

He’d seen the man many times before. He always stood on the fore deck, wind in his face when the weather was good and in the first observation row when the weather was poor. The ferry to Dunkirk wasn’t crowded like the Calais ferry and the drivers and logistics people were left to stretch their legs for the length of the crossing.

James was no different, walking the deck with his cargo safely in the bowels of the ship. It would be more suspicious to sit with his truck in the hold so he aimlessly wandered, watching the whitecaps and waiting for the French port to appear on the horizon.

He leaned against the steel bulkhead, carefully cupping hands around his cigarette as he flicked his lighter. They could ban him from the ship of course, fine him, and report him to the maritime authorities but they never did. James was able to slip under the radar like that. Worn jeans and day laborer shirt revealing nothing about the large sums he received for each trip.

The man at the railing must have caught him looking. He turned and looked James up and down, unhooking his boot from the rail and turning, using both hands to hold the rail behind him. “Like what you see?”

James curled his lip. While the body underneath was attractive, the man always appeared disheveled. Today he was in a filthy vest and cut off jeans - clearly a descendant of Oliver Twist. Hardly appropriate even if he was just driving a lorry. 

The man let go of the railings and slowly walked up to James, stopping downwind but close enough to talk. “Name’s Richard. From Wales.” James nodded. It explained the dirt. “You?” he prompted when James didn’t respond.

“James.” He blew out a lungfull of smoke. “London.”

“I’ve seen you here before. Do you take the ferry often?” James studied Richard while he had his attention. He was older than he looked at first, fine lines already settling in. “I pick up as many runs as I can but it’s sporadic at best.”

“As often as I have cargo.” James flicked his cigarette out into the water and let the last of the smoke blow away in the stiff wind. 

“Right, well, I have a load of slate bound for Riems and I might get another few runs out of this builder if I’m lucky.” Richard was working hard at the one sided conversation. “What are you hauling, James?”

James knew the type. If Richard wasn’t actively selling his wares then he did previously. “Forrest products,” he said vaguely, the timber disposable in the greater picture. The real shipment was carefully concealed in the cab, hundreds of thousands of Euros riding on James’ ability to bribe officials and fly under the radar.

“Oh,” Richard nodded. James was headed to Epernay and would likely be following Richard down most of the A26. He withheld the information. It might be useful later.

Richard checked his watch. James noted it was nice, but worn. Likely an old gift from a patron. He made sure his sleeve covered his IWC.

“Do you want to do anything for the next hour?” James could see he was hungry for a client and a few extra quid. 

“That depends upon our negotiations.” Richard stood a little taller if it was possible for someone so short, and his eyes flared with challenge. “I’m a very busy man.”

“One hundred for the hour. No oral and no bareback.”

It was a fair price outside of the city. James looked at him again, measuring him, and waiting for the nervous twitches that never came. A gold ring was on his finger. Richard had either forgotten to take it off or hadn’t planned on working. It was scuffed dull with years of wear. He probably had a wife and kids back in Wales waiting for whatever money he could drum up.

James wondered if they knew.

“How good at you at keeping secrets?”

“I can be discreet.”

He was a familiar face on the route and had the bravado one needed to do certain types of work. Being desperate for cash also helped. It would be a while before he could broach the subject, but he had been looking to hire on another driver and Richard might just fit the bill.

“Do you want to see my lorry?” Richard offered, taking James’ silence for reticence. 

James looked once again at the dirty shirt. It could be removed. The chest underneath looked smooth and lightly muscled, all things that he liked.

*************

“Are you interested in making a lot more money?” James held out the folded note as Richard zipped his jeans up.

Richard eyed him warily. “How much more?” James had been polite, quietly accepting the condom and paying as agreed, no abuse or bullshit after their transaction.

“Ten times whatever you’re making now.” Richard slipped back to the driver’s seat, moving decimal points in his head. 

He was dubious. They always were. That’s why James liked the desperate ones.

“Drop your cargo and follow me down to Epernay if you are.”

He was still hesitant, fighting internally and trying to calculate the figures James as dangling in front of him. “I don’t know. I don’t...”

“Just drive. That’s all you have to do.” James rested his arm against the back of the seat and let his sleeve pull up, showing off his high end watch. “You’ll never have to sell yourself again. I’ll even get you a bottle of Champagne.”

“I’d have to... call my wife. Mindy. Back in Wales.”

“Then call her. Do you have a mobile?”

Richard nodded. James found a scrap of paper and wrote down his own number. 

“I’ll be in Epernay for a day or two. Don’t wait too long.”

James hopped out of the cab, leaving Richard with his money and a phone number. Things would be easier with two drivers, and a little bit of arse never hurt.

**************

Richard had done well for himself over the years. He'd moved up the chain, passed from one buyer to another on recommendation. Looks helped. Money let him clean up and dress the part. He strove to be an account executive or investment banker type. The days of worn workboots and grubby vests were long behind him. Mindy hadn't minded and stopped asking questions after being gifted a luxury car and a large estate. She had her thoroughbreds and kissed him goodbye all the same, watching as the girls played in the courtyard instead of the gutter.

He was paired with Jeremy now, two executives coming back from a meeting in Brussels or Monaco. Jeremy worked on projects that would have made James' hair stand on end and the €10,000 seem like monopoly money. None of it was legal or moral but at least Richard had certain protections from favoured government officials or astute businessmen. Failure wasn’t an option and would mean the collapse of a good portion of the middle east and northern Africa. War was always a good business to be in.

Loading his ancient luggage on the trolly meant he was almost done for a while. It was a chance to go home and enjoy the fruits of his risk before the inevitable phone call came and he was back on his way to Doha. Or Naples. All much more beautiful than the industrial docks of Dunkirk. 

Richard traveled from airport to airport now, hire cars and the finest of wines replacing the stink of his diesel lorry. They had just finished another run and were heading their separate ways when Richard saw him. Well, the back of him. There was no mistaking the set of his shoulders and the hang of his arms. Little threw Richard these days and the quiet gasp was enough to make Jeremy pause.

“Nothing, nothing,” he quietly assured Jeremy. “Just someone I know.” Jeremy’s eyes were immediately on James and sized up the situation. “’S’okay, he’s an old friend.” Jeremy was nothing but overcautious and he shot Richard a questioning look. “Really. You go on. I’ll be alright.” He was an expensive commodity to lose. Talented people were hard to find. Jeremy nodded once before walking away, wobbly wheel on his cart making him look like the typical traveler. 

Richard approached carefully. James could be dangerous, at least he had been in years past. “James?” he called from a safe distance. The man turned and Richard had to catch his breath. He’d aged, they both had, but it was indeed James. Richard let a small smile settle on his face. There was a brief moment of confusion before James recognized him, taking in the much changed sight of an old friend.

“Richard?” James looked him over again. Clean, tailored clothes and styled hair was a new look for the Welshman. James had cleaned up as well. The linen suit made him look more like Hannibal Lecter than James Bond but the shorter gray hair suited him. Richard had only begun to watch the dark brown fade away, leaving before it settled into its current silver. “It’s been a while.”

“That it has,” he agreed. He’d held a weird thing for James over the years, memories of James pulling him from squalor and struggle into everything he had now. It was business, Richard had to remind himself time and time again. Business and nothing more, except for the nights when James caressed him or held him safe against the cold. “You look well.”

“I am. And you as well.” James scratched at his chin, indicating the facial hair Richard had worn for almost a decade now. Things turned awkward quickly. What did one talk about with your ex-drug smuggling buddy? “Your girls doing well?”

“Oh yes, almost grown now.” Richard looked at the flaxen jacket and the larger belly underneath. He never knew he had a thing for large bellies and the impulse to stoke his hand over James’ stomach left him biting his cheek. “How about you? You ever settle down?”

James scoffed. Family life had never been for him. “I have a place in Bimini with a local woman there. Nothing serious.” Richard had never heard of Bimini despite his travels, but pictured it being someplace tropical with blue skies and bluer water. 

“So do you want to get a beer or something? Catch up a bit?” Richard had a home to get to and a waiting family but he hadn’t seen James in years. News traveled abysmally slow when people didn’t officially exist.

“I’m a very busy man,” James said, hitching his shoulder to reveal his Patak Philippe and check the time.

Richard saw James’ small travel duffel and raised his bet. “Make the time.” He was used to high stakes now, pressure and strategic outcomes. He knew he’d won as soon as James ran a hand through his shorn locks, still trying to straighten the bits that used to fly away in the wind of the lorry. 

“I am famished if you’d like to accompany me.” James taste in food could be considered odd - sometimes so high end it barely resembled food and sometimes basic British crap food - and he hoped James didn’t have a taste for anything too outlandish. “Italian place I frequent, brings wine in direct from Serralunga d'Alba.”

He remembered. Richard’s palate was much more finicky than James’ and Italian was the one thing they agreed on. “That’ll do.” Hoping not to sound too eager, he tightened the grip on his luggage cart. “Shall we be off? Unless you’re waiting for someone else.” James had been standing in the middle of the arrivals terminal looking like he had all the time in the world.

“I was waiting for someone.” James blinked and pulled a pair of RayBans from his breast pocket and slid them on, ambling slowly towards the taxi rank. Richard looked around as the crowd quickly churned and James disappeared into the masses.


End file.
